Say My Name
by birdie7272
Summary: In a world where only your soulmate knows your name…well… it's hard to get people's attention. Mr. Holmes was especially hard to rouse. Then came Doctor Watson.


**AN:** Sendai liked my fluff and I am fangirling. As I am, I must fangirl to the max. So I wrote her a fluff ficlet. Ahhhhh.

If you haven't read her story The Marksman by now (fanfiction dot net), you should hunker down, prepare to laugh, and read that. Only, don't drink while reading. I hear it's a hazard.

Here is to you, m'dear Sendai.

* * *

><p>People say it's the best feeling in the world. That your stomach flips, your knees buckle, and your chest explodes all at the sound of your own name.<p>

To John, that sounds like a reason to go to the A&E.

It's not as though you're hearing it for the first time. You do know your own name. Other people just… well, don't. Not even your parents know your true given name. You aren't actually given one. You just have it.

Everyone knows about the names. They know examples of them from textbooks and such, but others can never know your own.

You could scream your name a thousand times but you're the only one who hears it. Write it across anything you like and the letters will blur together. Point to it in one of those texts and the viewer's eyes will go fuzzy.

It's everyone's biggest secret. The only person you can share it with is your mate.

Well, not your mate as in your 'mates' but mate as in soulmate. Even that concept is a bit farfetched. Not everyone falls in love at the same time, not always at first sight. Not everyone falls in love with the people they're supposed to. And sometimes people have more than one soulmate.

It doesn't happen very often. It extremely rare that more than one person other than yourself will know your true name, but it happened to John.

In Uni he had been on a few dates with a girl. He called her love because… well, what else was he supposed to call her? He had been quite taken with her and she with him as well. That's when it happened. She held his hand as they walked back to their dorms and she said, "I love you, John."

It was weird to hear his name. It didn't make the ground move or sparks fly like he expected. It was just his name coming from another person's mouth. Strange, but not life changing.

Then she asked him if he loved her.

Then it got awkward.

He couldn't think of her name. He didn't know her name. She stood there, holding back tears, as she silently cried her name at him. But he just didn't know it.

They tried to keep dating, hoping that maybe John would be a late bloomer in the emotional paradigm of their relationship but… nothing. They had been problematic ever since she said his name. It just wasn't meant to be.

He dated casually after that but he never really clicked with anyone the way he did with her. Still couldn't think of her name though.

The army wasn't exactly the best place to pick up girls and he wasn't interested anyway. He had a duty to Queen and Country, not his name.

Some people thought differently.

Their entire lives revolved around finding their other half. Some even went as far as placing ads in the paper. Whoever could read their name would call the number and presto –instant marriage. Of course, not all soulmates married. Some didn't find a need when their relationship was sealed by their secret bond.

It wasn't quite a secret to everyone. Many chose to have their partner's name tattooed on their bodies. Others would just see a blur but they would know that person was taken. Others picked up the habit of overusing the other person's name –a sort of kink when in a public places as they whispered the gibberish back and forth.

John hadn't given it much thought. He hadn't thought about much more than the war since his return.

That's about the time he met up with Stanford who introduced him to Holmes, the younger.

Mr. Holmes was amazing. Absolutely amazing. Brilliant, really.

Pretty soon it was Doctor Watson and Mr. Holmes taking on London's most difficult cases, solving murders, and putting criminals away.

John found he didn't much care –or have the time- to search for someone who knew his name. Mr. Holmes took up every free moment he had. He wouldn't have it any other way.

They'd been living together for years and John knew all of his flatmate's ins and outs. He knew when Holmes was stuck, when he was hurting, when he was happy, and when he was annoyed. Most of all, he knew when he was being an arse for the sake of it.

Such as the time Holmes broke his favorite teacup and left the remnants of his shattered mug on the table for him to find.

Tea was most needed that day. To see not only his favorite mug in pieces, but also to find every single cup they owned dirty with black dust of some unknown origin on top of that- it made him furious.

He stomped over to Holmes' bedroom and pounded on the door. "Open this door! So help me, you will come out here and tell me what this is. Stop hiding in your room and open this door! Sherlock!"

"It's open, John."

John felt his adrenaline spike as his fury took over and he twisted the handle –which he was quite sure was previously locked- and shot into the room. "You bloody well can't be doing this again, Sherl- oh my god. You just-" Maybe the poets were right, about the world going blurry and the air escaping your lungs. "You called me John."

"Took you quite long enough," Sherlock sneered from his position on the floor, not bothering to even turn around.

"I just called you Sherlock."

"Way to catch up."

"But I- but- that's your name?"

"Quite."

"I- you- but you're-you…" John felt himself slipping to the ground as the secret unfolded into an obvious fact. "You knew. How long? How long have you known?"

Sherlock did turn then, enough to show the slight smirk on his face –one might even be able to say it was the hint of a smile. "From the moment we met."

"Wha-" John was too dumbstruck to do much else but gasp. "How?"

"I deduced it."

"You can't deduce a name."

"I can too."

"No you bloody well can't… Can you? Sherlock?" The name was so foreign. It played so wonderfully on his tongue. He had to repeat it again and again, different every time. "Sherlock. Sherrrlock. Sherlock. Sherl-"

"John," Sherlock saying his name had his heart pounding again –a single thump that threatened to knock him the rest of the way to the floor. "Do shut up."

John laughed at that. A happy, manic laughter that cleared the fog enough to where he could move his body around the bedpost and lean against the foot of the bed next to his friend, his best friend, his soulmate. "All this time and you never said."

"All this time and you finally did."


End file.
